Latest news with #Juilliard
Los Angeles Times
11 hours ago
- Entertainment
- Los Angeles Times
Playwright Molly Smith Metzler scores with ‘Sirens' on Netflix: L.A. arts and culture this week
'Sirens,' starring Julianne Moore, Kevin Bacon, Milly Alcock and Meghann Fahy, debuted over Memorial Day weekend as Netflix's most-watched show with 16.7 million viewers. What many of those viewers might not have known: The series is based on a play. Created by Molly Smith Metzler, 'Sirens' is adapted from a 2011 one-act, 'Elemeno Pea,' which Metzler wrote when she was at Juilliard. The play premiered that year as part of the 35th anniversary of the Humana Festival of New American Plays in Louisville. It also staged a run at South Coast Repertory in Costa Mesa in 2012. 'Sirens' and 'Elemeno Pea' are about a young woman who overcomes a tough childhood only to drop out of law school and become a personal assistant to a billionaire's narcissistic wife. Cutting satire ensues when the girl's street-smart sister, who believes her sibling is being devoured whole by the 1 percent, intervenes to save her. The show is a meditation on class and what might best be described as a distinctly American caste system — one in which people from disadvantaged or working-class backgrounds can achieve the trappings of success without ever truly being accepted in the rarefied rooms they occupy. Metzler knows of what she writes — having ascended from the world of struggling playwrights to that of well-paid television writers while raising a young daughter. She was lucky to come into her own during the era of peak TV when the strong storytelling skills of playwrights were in high demand for screen projects. I first met Metzler in 2018 when I wrote about the West Coast premiere of her play 'Cry It Out' at Atwater Village Theatre. She is warm and welcoming, a devoted mother and a savvy businesswoman and artist. At that time Metzler had already written for the TV shows 'Casual' and 'Shameless,' but in 2021 she broke through as a showrunner for the Netflix limited series 'Maid,' which she adapted from Stephanie Land's bestselling memoir. The Emmy-nominated show became the streamer's fourth-most watched show that year. Metzler recruited fellow playwrights Bekah Brunstetter and Marcus Gardley to write for 'Maid.' Brunstetter, whose 2015 play, 'The Cake,' ran at La Jolla Playhouse, also penned an episode of 'Sirens.' The remaining four episodes were written by Metzler and her husband, Colin McKenna, also a playwright. When 'Elemeno Pea' first ran at South Coast Rep, Metzler was 33 and living with McKenna in Brooklyn Heights. The Kingston, N.Y.-native told The Times in an interview that the play was based on her own experience getting to know an outrageously rich woman on Martha's Vineyard during a post-collegiate stay to gather material for future plays. Back then Metzler told The Times: 'I don't want to be a screenwriter. I might write screenplays to pay my rent — most playwrights do — but I am compelled by how hard this art is. I love the challenge of it.' Metzler has now achieved a rare kind of success: She gets the best of both worlds. I'm arts and culture writer Jessica Gelt, binge-watching my way through Metzler's oeuvre. Here's your weekly dose of arts news. 'World of the Terracotta Warriors' has opened at the Bowers Museum in Santa Ana, with more than a hundred artifacts dating from 2300 BC and discovered in Shimao, one of the earliest walled cities in China. Life-size ceramic warrior sculptures are on view with jade, gold and bronze relics in an exhibition organized by the Bowers with the Shaanxi Provincial Cultural Heritage Administration, Shaanxi Cultural Heritage Promotion Center and Emperor Qinshihuang's Mausoleum Site Museum of the People's Republic of China. This special exhibition costs $11-$29. The museum is open 10 a.m.-4 p.m. Tuesdays-Sundays, through Oct. 19. President Trump announced Friday that he is firing Kim Sajet, the longtime director of the Smithsonian's National Portrait Gallery, for being 'a highly partisan person, and a strong supporter of DEI.' The move is Trump's latest push to align national arts institutions with his political agenda. In February, he dismissed much of the Kennedy Center board to have himself appointed chairman. In March, he targeted the Smithsonian Institution by issuing an executive order demanding an end to federal funding for exhibitions and programs based on racial themes that 'divide Americans.' Times music critic Mark Swed was in New York to gauge the reception to Gustavo Dudamel, a year ahead of his official start at music and artistic director of the New York Philharmonic. The verdict: So far, so good. Nadya Tolokonnikova, a founding member of the Russian all-female punk band Pussy Riot and a prominent political activist, is staging a durational performance piece at Museum of Contemporary Art titled 'Police State.' The work, which runs from Thursday to June 14, consists of Tolokonnikova sitting at a bare wooden table inside of a corrugated steel structure resembling a Russian prison cell. She plans to stay in this artscape throughout the day and night— eating, drinking and even going to the restroom. She will occasionally perform what the museum is calling 'soundscapes' — a mix of lullabies, screaming and noise rock. Visitors to the museum can watch her through peepholes and via feed from a security camera. Tolokonnikova's performance is born from hard, personal experience. She spent nearly two years in a Russian prison after being arrested for a 2012 performance in Moscow's Cathedral of Christ the Saviour. The world-premiere play 'The Reservoir' by Jake Brasch is in rehearsals at Geffen Playhouse in Westwood. The heartfelt comedy finds two hilarious grandparents, Shrimpy and Bev, helping their grandson Josh navigate life during a difficult stretch of time. Veteran actor Lee Wilkof plays Shrimpy, and the Geffen recently shared an interesting tidbit of trivia with The Times about him: In 1982 Wilkof originated the role of Seymour in the Workshop of the Players Art Foundation's off-off-Broadway world premiere of 'Little Shop of Horrors' alongside Ellen Greene as Audrey. The show soon debuted off-Broadway at the Orpheum Theatre in the East Village. In 1983 Wilkof and Greene performed the musical at Geffen Playhouse, which was called the Westwood Playhouse at the time. 'The Reservoir' marks Wilkof's return to the building and its stage. Here's a clip of Wilkof and Greene performing 'Somewhere That's Green' and 'Suddenly Seymour' on 'The Tonight Show' in 1983. Interested in tarot? A show with the lengthy and informative title of 'Tarot in Time: A Collection of Rare & Out of Print Decks and Original Tarot Art,' recently opened at the Philosophical Research Society. It's part of the inaugural Los Angeles Festival of Tarot, and it's scheduled to run through June 29. A mom-nod of approval for MOCA for providing children with worksheets relating to its Olafur Eliasson exhibition 'Open' at the Geffen Contemporary in Little Tokyo. The worksheets, which are handed out with a pencil and clipboard, give kids a series of questions relating to each piece of art, encouraging them to engage on a deeper level than they would if they were just cruising through with parents. Finished worksheets can be exchanged at the front desk for a prize: a cute pin that reads 'Art Is for Everyone.'
Los Angeles Times
7 days ago
- Entertainment
- Los Angeles Times
In a pinch, the writers of ‘Shrinking' turn to their acting ‘assassin': Michael Urie
Ever since landing the career-making role of gay assistant/fashionista Marc St. James on 'Ugly Betty' — at 25, just three years out of Juilliard — Michael Urie has been a busy, award-winning actor unbridled by being unabashedly out. Over the last 20 years, he's glided between TV ('Modern Family,' 'The Good Wife,' 'Younger'), film ('Beverly Hills Chihuahua,' 'Single All the Way,' 'Maestro') and Broadway ('How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying,' 'Torch Song,' 'Once Upon a Mattress'). 'Whatever I'm currently doing is my favorite,' says the 44-year-old over video chat from the Manhattan apartment he shares with partner and fellow actor Ryan Spahn. 'I find the work itself feels the same. Working on a scene with Harrison Ford is not that different than being onstage with Sutton Foster. I'm opposite somebody at the top of their game, who knows this medium better than anyone, and they're treating me like a peer. I'm there and it's thrilling.' Ford is just one of the many 'titans' Urie feels he's surrounded by on his latest big gig, Apple TV+'s 'Shrinking,' where he plays attorney Brian, gay bestie to star Jason Segel's Jimmy, a straight, unorthodox psychotherapist struggling with the loss of his wife and raising his teen daughter on his own. Segel, who co-created the series with Bill Lawrence and Brett Goldstein, describes Urie's audition tape as electric and flawless. '[Michael's] not a guy who's showing up and figuring it out on the day,' he says of Urie's 'exceptional' prep work. 'Like a pinch hitter or an assassin, he comes in and just perfectly executes the assignment of every scene.' Segel notes that the spot-on work Urie delivered during the first season convinced the show's creative team he could shoulder the dramatic heft of what was planned for the second. In it, Brian tells Jimmy's daughter, Alice (Lukita Maxwell), how and why he has befriended the guilt-ridden drunk driver (Goldstein) who killed her mother — which, two episodes later, he repeats nearly verbatim to Jimmy, leading to much-needed catharsis all-around. The intense scenes were 'a huge, huge challenge I was so up for and so game to do,' Urie says, and 'easily the greatest gift anyone's ever given me in television.' 'He's just the best dude,' says Segel. 'It makes you want to write for [him]. It makes you want to see him thrive.' Given his success, it's hard to believe Urie almost didn't pursue acting professionally. Born to a seamstress mom and an oil industry draftsman dad in Houston but raised in Dallas-adjacent Plano alongside his older sister, Laura — a Bay Area psychologist who loves 'Shrinking' — he liked performing in plays as a teen but says, 'I didn't think anything like this was at all possible.' He wanted to be a filmmaker like his idol, Tim Burton, or maybe a high school drama teacher like those he worshiped along the way. All that changed when he entered a Texas-wide poetry reading competition as a high school senior. In the middle of a seven-minute piece interpreted in an appropriately serious manner, Urie elicited unexpected giggles from the audience. 'In the moment, I started to lean into everything they were finding funny,' he remembers, 'and I kept getting bigger and bigger laughs.' If walking away with that state championship made Urie seriously consider giving acting a shot, getting into Juilliard after auditioning on a whim made him believe he might succeed. 'I was like, 'Oh, my God! This is where Robin Williams, Patti LuPone, William Hurt and Kevin Kline went to school,'' he recalls. 'Suddenly, I'm in the club.' Urie's certainly made the most of that membership, and he remains thankful to have been given opportunities to bring so many shades of gay to LGBTQ+ audiences throughout the world. But 'Shrinking' has seriously broadened his brand. 'I'm being stopped on the street by more straight men than ever,' he reveals. 'It's empowering. What I feel is pride that all these straight men like Brian and think of him as their friend.' In Season 3, currently shooting in Los Angeles, Urie's Brian and his TV husband, Charlie (Devin Kawaoka), will tackle co-parenting their newly adopted child. 'It's not just the baby,' says Urie, resisting a gender reveal so as to not ruin the surprise. 'It's what the baby means to people around him: Charlie, the biological mother and Liz (Christa Miller). And how [being a] dad fits into the rest of his life, in these friendships, in this chosen family. So far, they've written big comedy and some super serious pathos.' Which is exactly as Urie likes it. Shocked and flattered by the growing Emmy buzz surrounding his Season 2 turn, he'd clearly be thrilled to win yet confesses he long ago gave up on accumulating awards. 'All I really wanna do is work,' he says. 'I'm way more comfortable on a set, in rehearsal or onstage than I am at a podium or on a red carpet.'
Business of Fashion
7 days ago
- Entertainment
- Business of Fashion
The Business of Ballerina Farm
MIDWAY, UTAH — Many who stumble upon Hannah Neeleman on TikTok find themselves asking one question after they've spent a bit of time admiring her photogenic farm life: How on earth does she find the time to bake so much homemade bread while raising eight kids? Neeleman chalks it up to meal planning and plenty of advanced prep. But when it comes to Ballerina Farm, the lifestyle brand she launched with husband David Daniel Neeleman, she's enlisted a staff of 60, including multiple chefs, to develop her brand's growing array of food, home, body and wellness products. 'It definitely doesn't happen without a team behind you,' said Neeleman while serving cups of homemade buttermilk at a preview of her brand's new store in May. The Ballerina Farm Store opens in mid-June in the 6,000-person town of Midway, about half an hour south of Utah's ritzy Park City ski area. With a Japanese-inspired charred wood exterior and reclaimed barnwood floors, it has the sort of upscale rustic charm that's equally at home in rural Utah, or a hip shopping street in Los Angeles' Silver Lake neighbourhood. The store sells everything from the brand's Farmer Protein Powder with colostrum to soap made from sourdough crumbs and pig lard, as well as dairy products of the pasteurised variety. A sign on the wall promotes raw milk, which they sell at their farm stand. ADVERTISEMENT Many products are inspired by — and sometimes sourced from — her family farm. Others are imported. Customers can buy cardamom apricot amaretti and ginger rhubarb strawberry kombucha at an in-store cafe counter, or purchase 20th-century Belgian art. 'We've just had fun bringing in beautiful products that are the best in the world,' Neeleman said during the tour. 'Our French salt — I fell in love with salt when we went to France three years ago.' A former Juilliard ballet student who gave up her dance career to buy and run a family farm with her husband, Neeleman's idyllic content has attracted nearly 22 million followers across social platforms. On TikTok, the hashtag #ballerinafarm is up to 2.5 billion views. That hashtag will bring you to a mix of Neeleman's own videos, depicting milking sheep or rolling dough, but also an ecosystem of fans and critics who react to her every move, whether it's receiving an egg apron from her husband or competing in a beauty pageant two weeks after having a baby. With their massive and highly engaged online audience locked in, the Neelemans are moving fast to expand Ballerina Farm into a real-world lifestyle empire. There's the new store, and 20 employees hired in the last four months. Its bestselling Farmer Protein Powder will be stocked at New York's Happier Grocery, the Big Apple's answer to Erewhon, in June. The Neelemans want to create an agritourism site complete with hospitality and an event space. They say the business is profitable, while declining to share sales numbers. The Ballerina Farm Store in Midway, Utah. (Ballerina Farm) Ballerina Farm already has the hallmarks of some of the biggest and trendiest lifestyle brands on the market, with a farm-themed twist. Its product lineup and price points (that protein powder retails for $67 a bag) are similar to brands like Flamingo Estate, while Neeleman's cooking videos evoke an even more industrious Martha Stewart, who follows her on Instagram (viewers can try their luck at home with Ballerina Farm's $89 sourdough kit). TikTok especially has given Ballerina Farms instant access to a global fandom, most of whom have no intention of milking their own cows. Los Angeles is the top city for e-commerce orders, while 62.5 percent of Hannah's social media followers are outside the United States, according to Daniel Neeleman. ADVERTISEMENT Hustle Agriculture As avid followers know, the Neelemans married three months after their first date, in 2011. Two years later, the twosome were raising goats in Brazil, which sparked the idea for Ballerina Farm 1.0. 'We wanted the farm to make money; we wanted to be able to support ourselves,' said Hannah Neeleman. Daniel left his job as a director at Vigzul, a home security company started by his father, JetBlue founder David Neeleman, and by 2017, the couple was raising pigs in Utah. They turned to social media to promote their new artisanal meat business, gaining a niche following of customers and fellow farmers. 'When we were first starting [on] Instagram, we had a lot of homesteaders that followed us, because we were really in the thick of building things — our first milk cows and building chicken coops,' said Hannah Neeleman. But it wasn't until the pandemic that she became a mainstream success. 'I remember not more than a week going by when someone was like, 'You're exploding on TikTok,'' she said of the account that is now up to 9.8 million followers. Her Instagram following, which was at 443,000 in January 2022, grew to 8.3 million by January 2024. Media attention raised her profile even more. A viral July 2024 profile of her life in the UK's Sunday Times was followed by appearances in The New York Times, Glamour and other publications. (Neeleman hasn't welcomed all of the attention, calling the Sunday Times profile an 'attack' in a video posted shortly after it ran). Each piece sparked a firestorm of online discussion, as audiences obsessed over her life path and marriage, which ballooned into broader debates about whether her content implicitly supported 'tradwife' ideology, especially after she was featured in a 59-page spread in Evie, a publication aimed at conservative women. A representative said the feature 'was not intended as a political statement.' ADVERTISEMENT All that attention and world-building elevates Neeleman to a category of fame beyond social media influencers, and into the realm of mass-market celebrities, said James Nord, founder of influencer marketing agency Fohr. The logical next step would be a reality show. Daniel Neeleman says they've been offered 'dozens' of opportunities, but haven't signed onto one yet. 'Never say never,' he said. The Simple Life The day before the store preview, Hannah Neeleman led a tour of her family's newly built 150-cow dairy. She discussed the finer points of manure collection (she said a robotic 'manure roomba' gathers it), shared her views on the virtues of raw milk and described the best type of feed for optimising cream content. The Neelemans produce a portion of what they sell, and they refer to Ballerina Farm's brand ethos as 'close living' — sourcing locally and homeschooling their children to help on the farm. As demand has grown, so has their supply chain. The handmade soap is made by a neighbour; the protein powder sources whey from Ireland. 'We're limited; we're a small farm,' said Daniel Neeleman. 'We have to lean on other farms to help supply us.' Even as they expand into product categories like wellness that can be shipped internationally in large quantities, there remain 'products that we'll probably never be able to scale, and we love that,' said Hannah Neeleman. One of the main ones: their raw milk, which can't be sold outside their own store, per health regulations. The brand's website says customers need to sign a waiver to buy it, and a required disclaimer on the vintage-style bottles warns that it 'can be unsafe.' The success of the brand hinges on how many followers tuning into Ballerina Farm out of aspiration, drama — or the combination of both — will end up placing orders for products. The Neelemans, meanwhile, remain practical about their ambitions. 'We're not trying to go public. We're not trying to franchise. We're not trying to be in every gas station and every grocery store,' said Daniel Neeleman. 'That isn't really what makes us excited. We like to keep things small and special, and that's kind of where we're at right now.'
Perth Now
26-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Perth Now
Patti LuPone 'took an instant dislike' to Kevin Kline
Patti LuPone's relationship with Kevin Kline was "painful". The 76-year-old actress met Kevin, 77, at Juilliard, a performing arts school in New York City, in the 70s, and she wasn't a fan of him at first. Patti told The New Yorker magazine: "I took an instant dislike to him. "He looked like Pinocchio to me. He had skinny legs, and he was tall, and I didn't really see the handsomeness." Despite this, the duo grew closer over time and their on-and-off relationship ultimately lasted for seven years. Patti now looks back on their romance with a lot of regret, describing it as a "painful" experience. The actress said: "He was a Lothario. It was a painful relationship. "I was his girlfriend when he wanted me to be his girlfriend, but, if there was somebody else, he would break up with me and go out with that person. And I, for some reason, stuck it out - until I couldn't stick it out anymore." Kevin concedes that their relationship was "fraught". The actor - who has been married to actress Phoebe Cates since 1989 - explained: "We fought all the time. "In the company, we were known as the Strindbergs." Patti previously claimed that her turbulent romance with Kevin "exhausted [her] heart". The 'Driving Miss Daisy' star also described her former partner as a "player". Patti - who has been married to Matthew Johnston since 1988 - told People back in 2022: "For me that was my first big love. And Kevin was also a player, and it was hard. That was incredibly hard on me. He exhausted my heart." Patti and Kevin have actually kept in touch with each other since ending their relationship, and the actress now considers them to be "friends". The award-winning star - who has enjoyed huge success on Broadway and in London's West End - said: "We have found a place where we can actually communicate and be friends. I think we can be friends. "I don't think we can double date, but I think Kevin and I can at least talk to each other."
Forbes
23-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Forbes
Netflix's ‘Sirens' Was Inspired By A Summer Trip To Martha's Vineyard
Molly Smith Metzler's Sirens is a clever, sexy, and darkly hilarious binge-watch that explores the influence of wealth and social class. With a Fargo-esque vibe and a quirky ensemble of eccentric characters, this show offers a delightful summer escape into a candy-coated world with a few nuts in the center. Known for her first Netflix hit, the limited series Maid, the showrunner and creator has a penchant for telling stories with strong female leads and complicated familial ties; Maid was very motherhood-focused, and Sirens centers around the sister bond. While Maid was inspired by Stephanie Land's New York Times best-selling memoir 'Maid: Hard Work, Low Pay, and a Mother's Will to Survive,' Metzler's limited series Sirens is based on her play entitled Elemeno Pea, which she wrote as a graduate student at The Juilliard School. This marks the first series from her creative partnership with Netflix. The five-episode series, centered on the Greek mythology of sirens, premiered on May 22 and quickly topped the streamer's charts. Metzler got her dream cast with Meghann Fahy as Devon DeWitt, who is worried that her younger sister Simone (Milly Alcock) has an overly dependent and concerning relationship with her boss, the mysterious socialite Michaela Kell (Julianne Moore). The story unravels over an explosive weekend at the Kells' lavish estate. Devon goes to save Simone from Michaela's cult-like environment, but her sister doesn't seem to need or want saving. Kevin Bacon also stars as Michaela's husband, Peter. Glenn Howerton (Ethan Corbin III), Bill Camp (Bruce DeWitt), and Felix Solis (Jose) round out the cast. Kevin Bacon in 'Sirens' on Netflix. PHOTO BY MACALL POLAY/NETFLIX. In an interview, Metzler told me about a life-changing summer in Martha's Vineyard that forever influenced her thoughts on wealth and power. She was in her early twenties and had just graduated college at the time. 'I don't come from money. I don't come from poverty, either, but I don't come from yacht clubs. I wanted to spend the summer writing, and I had this romantic idea that Martha's Vineyard would be a great place to do it,' she explained. To afford her stay, she began working at an exclusive yacht club, and it was there that she learned about money and social status. 'It was a serious place; we were trained in the culinary arts. This was old money…really VIP clientele. I didn't do any writing because I had to work so hard just to pay my rent. I had a hunch that I was learning something I would write about someday,' she reflected. A decade later, the idea for a play emerged. 'I remember writing the first scene between Devon and Simone. They're arguing about the Easter eggs on the island, and Devon is saying, 'You aren't a part of this. You work here. You aren't a part of this world.' Then, ten years later, I wrote this mini-series about that world and that summer through the lens of where I came from. This has been a story I can't seem to escape.' Of that initial idea to go to Martha's Vineyard, Metzler said the pull was strong. 'I don't know why because I didn't know anyone there. I remember getting off the ferry and observing this world. I didn't know that kind of wealth existed. I'd never seen it before…the pastels and the necklaces and the kind of tribal quality that these incredibly wealthy people had. It felt like a cult. I remember being taken with it and thinking their life was better than ours. I waited tables all summer, and I found it intoxicating.' Then, when her mother and brother visited her there, she realized that her family didn't fit in. 'They were in awe and asked me, 'What is this place? Is it a cult? Why does everyone look like an Easter egg?' They were very critical of me and how taken with it I was,' she explained, adding how they were wearing the wrong clothes and stood out. 'My brother was smoking, and I remember feeling this impasse of where I came from versus where I was at that moment. I had that experience of trying something different from where I came from, trying to leave my hometown, and trying to reinvent myself in a new place, with my family telling me that I could not do that and how I couldn't change who I was.' As with Maid, the haves versus the have-nots plays a prevalent part in the story, with some wealthy people believing they can buy anything and anyone they want. To tell this story, Metzler was inspired by Greek mythology, particularly the sirens in Homer's Odyssey. Julianne Moore in 'Sirens' on Netflix. PHOTO BY MACALL POLAY/NETFLIX. 'They're described as half-birds, half-women, and are pretty grotesque. They have the upper body of a woman, but then they have wings and talons, and over time, they morph into beautiful mermaids. Their original depiction was birdlike. So, it's a nod to that," she explained, adding how lucky she was that Moore, like her character Michaela, loves birds of prey in real life and enjoyed working with them. "I think Michaela is tremendously lonely on that island and has cultivated this community of birds and activists that keep her busy. I think she sees a lot of herself in the birds. She's a bit of a predator. She can be ferocious. They have filled a hole in her life that needed filling because she left her career, and she works for Peter, like everyone else. I think this is her way of mothering.' As for Michaela's 'Hey, hey,' that everyone mimics, Metzler was inspired by the women she encountered during that summer in Martha's Vineyard. 'While waitressing, I observed that one of the wives would come in with a certain necklace, and the next day, another wife would have it. There was a follow-the-leader with clothes, but I noticed it in their vernacular as well; they would pick up the same lingo and phraseology. I believed it was a world where something Michaela said could catch on, and in my head, it was something she said to Simone that then became a thing. She has that kind of power and influence, where something benign like that can become a hashtag for their entire summer event.' Simone is so obsessed with Michaela that she wants to be her. Both women, she agrees, betray one another in spectacular ways. 'It's a complicated relationship and what happens there is open to interpretation. What I try to do as a writer is load both guns.'
