Latest news with #Klansman
Yahoo
15-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Yahoo
Who is Theo Von? The 'manosphere' podcaster with Trump in Qatar
Podcaster Theo Von performed a set for U.S. troops in Qatar on Thursday where he joked about doing drugs on a mixed-race baby and the sexuality of men in the U.S. Navy, and compared the Qatari hosts' attire to Klansman robes. His appearance preceded President Donald Trump's visit to the Al-Udeid Air Base. The comedian's remarks drew laughter and some groans from the service members in attendance and also some questions about why he was there. 'Dad, you've got to do an interview with a guy named Theo Von,' Trump said in his own remarks Thursday, recalling his son Barron's urging to do Von's podcast last year. 'I said, 'Who the hell is Theo Von?'' Here's what you need to know about Von. Who is Theo Von? Theo Von, born Theodor Capitani von Kurnatowski III, is a 45-year-old stand-up comedian and podcaster who did an extended one-on-one podcast interview with Trump during the presidential campaign in which they discussed addiction and the opioid crisis. Born and largely raised in what he describes as the 'stray animal belt' of Louisiana, and legally emancipated at 14, Von's first taste of the spotlight was on MTV reality shows, including the 'Road Rules: Maximum Velocity Tour' and 'The Challenge.' He also competed in 'Last Comic Standing,' and won the Comedy Central show 'Reality Bites Back' over comedians like Amy Schumer and Tiffany Haddish. He has hosted the hidden camera show 'Deal With It' and has had various acting roles, including in 'Inside Amy Schumer' and the Chris Pratt movie 'The Tomorrow War.' Why is he famous? Things really took off for Von when the self-described 'white trash' creator found podcasting. In 2016, he started a longform video podcast called 'This Past Weekend,' which, as of 2024 per Spotify's year-end charts, was the fourth-biggest podcast on the streamer globally, with nearly 54,000 monthly listeners. A frequent guest on another popular podcast, 'The Joe Rogan Experience,' Von speaks candidly about addiction and recovery and has over 7.6 million followers on TikTok. He has comedy specials on Netflix and is currently touring around the U.S. and Canada. Von, often described as 'the next Joe Rogan,' is part of the so-called manosphere, a rising online community of hypermasculine influencers and comedians who rebuff 'cancel culture' and offer crudeness in its place Von was also one of the founders of 'King and The Sting,' a podcast that ran from 2018 to 2022, and featured Brendan Schaub and comedian Chris D'Elia, who has denied sexual misconduct allegations. Why is he in Qatar? That was the question of the day on social media, but Von has a lot of experience performing for the troops. He's been part of five USO tours. Where does he sit politically? Von seems loath to pin himself down to a certain side, and he tries to balance his guests accordingly, although it's tempting to make assumptions based on association. Over the weekend, he was photographed having dinner with Ivanka Trump and Jared Kushner in Miami. The pair attended his 'Return of the Rat' show alongside Trump media adviser Alex Bruesewitz. New York Times pop music critic Jon Caramanica watched over 60 hours of Von's podcast and saw various standup sets in an attempt to answer the question: 'Is Theo Von podcasting from the right or the left?' 'That depends from where you're looking,' Caramanica wrote. Who goes on his podcast? It seems like everybody makes a point to chat with Von these days, including politicians, Oscar-nominated actors, titans of business, athletes, comedians, documentarians and investigative journalists. Recent guests have included Mark Zuckerberg, Ben Affleck, Morgan Wallen, Chelsea Handler, popular left-wing Twitch streamer Hasan Piker and David Spade. Last year, he hosted Rogan, Timothée Chalamet, JD Vance (when he was campaigning for vice president), Sen. Bernie Sanders and Ed Sheeran. He told Tom Green that he tried to host Kamala Harris and Tim Walz as well. The Associated Press Error in retrieving data Sign in to access your portfolio Error in retrieving data Error in retrieving data Error in retrieving data Error in retrieving data
Winnipeg Free Press
15-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Winnipeg Free Press
Who is Theo Von? The ‘manosphere' podcaster with Trump in Qatar
Podcaster Theo Von performed a set for U.S. troops in Qatar on Thursday where he joked about doing drugs on a mixed-race baby and the sexuality of men in the U.S. Navy, and compared the Qatari hosts' attire to Klansman robes. His appearance preceded President Donald Trump's visit to the Al-Udeid Air Base. The comedian's remarks drew laughter and some groans from the service members in attendance and also some questions about why he was there. 'Dad, you've got to do an interview with a guy named Theo Von,' Trump said in his own remarks Thursday, recalling his son Barron's urging to do Von's podcast last year. 'I said, 'Who the hell is Theo Von?'' Here's what you need to know about Von. Who is Theo Von? Theo Von, born Theodor Capitani von Kurnatowski III, is a 45-year-old stand-up comedian and podcaster who did an extended one-on-one podcast interview with Trump during the presidential campaign in which they discussed addiction and the opioid crisis. Born and largely raised in what he describes as the 'stray animal belt' of Louisiana, and legally emancipated at 14, Von's first taste of the spotlight was on MTV reality shows, including the 'Road Rules: Maximum Velocity Tour' and 'The Challenge.' He also competed in 'Last Comic Standing,' and won the Comedy Central show 'Reality Bites Back' over comedians like Amy Schumer and Tiffany Haddish. He has hosted the hidden camera show 'Deal With It' and has had various acting roles, including in 'Inside Amy Schumer' and the Chris Pratt movie 'The Tomorrow War.' Why is he famous? Things really took off for Von when the self-described 'white trash' creator found podcasting. In 2016, he started a longform video podcast called 'This Past Weekend,' which, as of 2024 per Spotify's year-end charts, was the fourth-biggest podcast on the streamer globally, with nearly 54,000 monthly listeners. A frequent guest on another popular podcast, 'The Joe Rogan Experience,' Von speaks candidly about addiction and recovery and has over 7.6 million followers on TikTok. He has comedy specials on Netflix and is currently touring around the U.S. and Canada. Von, often described as 'the next Joe Rogan,' is part of the so-called manosphere, a rising online community of hypermasculine influencers and comedians who rebuff 'cancel culture' and offer crudeness in its place Von was also one of the founders of 'King and The Sting,' a podcast that ran from 2018 to 2022, and featured Brendan Schaub and comedian Chris D'Elia, who has denied sexual misconduct allegations. Why is he in Qatar? That was the question of the day on social media, but Von has a lot of experience performing for the troops. He's been part of five USO tours. Where does he sit politically? Von seems loath to pin himself down to a certain side, and he tries to balance his guests accordingly, although it's tempting to make assumptions based on association. Over the weekend, he was photographed having dinner with Ivanka Trump and Jared Kushner in Miami. The pair attended his 'Return of the Rat' show alongside Trump media adviser Alex Bruesewitz. Winnipeg Jets Game Days On Winnipeg Jets game days, hockey writers Mike McIntyre and Ken Wiebe send news, notes and quotes from the morning skate, as well as injury updates and lineup decisions. Arrives a few hours prior to puck drop. New York Times pop music critic Jon Caramanica watched over 60 hours of Von's podcast and saw various standup sets in an attempt to answer the question: 'Is Theo Von podcasting from the right or the left?' 'That depends from where you're looking,' Caramanica wrote. Who goes on his podcast? It seems like everybody makes a point to chat with Von these days, including politicians, Oscar-nominated actors, titans of business, athletes, comedians, documentarians and investigative journalists. Recent guests have included Mark Zuckerberg, Ben Affleck, Morgan Wallen, Chelsea Handler, popular left-wing Twitch streamer Hasan Piker and David Spade. Last year, he hosted Rogan, Timothée Chalamet, JD Vance (when he was campaigning for vice president), Sen. Bernie Sanders and Ed Sheeran. He told Tom Green that he tried to host Kamala Harris and Tim Walz as well.
New York Times
03-05-2025
- Entertainment
- New York Times
Ryan Coogler's ‘Sinners' and the Art of the Deal With the Devil
In 2050, thanks to an advantageous deal he made with Warner Bros., Ryan Coogler will own the rights to 'Sinners,' the Black Southern Gothic blockbuster he wrote and directed. The contract gave him final cut and a piece of the box office revenue right from the start, too. Owning his movie about Black ownership in the Jim Crow South was, Mr. Coogler has said, a nonnegotiable. Since the film came out, these contract stipulations have been much discussed, even controversial. That has little to do with why 'Sinners' is so enthralling to watch — after all it's a genre-bending and -blending film, steeped in horror, blues and history, and even has vampires — but everything to do with the film's central theme, and why it is so resonant: the art of the deal. Negotiation is a central thread in 'Sinners,' a repeated motif about the power and consequence of deal-making in America. (This essay includes spoilers for 'Sinners.') The protagonists of 'Sinners' are identical twin brothers nicknamed Smoke and Stack, both played by Michael B. Jordan, Mr. Coogler's longtime collaborator. After serving in World War I and becoming involved with Chicago gangsters, the slick-talking duo return in 1932 to their Mississippi Delta hometown to set up a juke joint, enlisting their gifted cousin Sammie to play guitar. The town, Clarksdale, happens to also be the location of the crossroads where the legendary blues musician Robert Johnson supposedly sold his soul to the devil for mastery over his guitar. With a satchel full of cash and a truck full of liquor, the twins come back to the South having realized that 'Chicago is Mississippi with tall buildings instead of plantations.' Their for-us-by-us plan was to generate wealth by owning and operating a blues-drenched sanctuary for Black joy, a private escape from the daily terror of racial oppression. Many of the clientele are Black sharecroppers who have been forced into exploitative contracts by white landowners, a point made evident in 'Sinners' when a customer tries to use wooden coins to buy a drink. The fake money is good only at the plantation store. Nobody Black had the leverage to negotiate a good deal in the Jim Crow South. Despite the vampires in the film, the real monsters are the ordinary-seeming men, like Hogwood, the covert Klansman from whom Smoke and Stack buy the mill they are going to turn into the juke joint, who smile as they take your money and shake your hand, and have no intention of honoring the terms. During this time, legalistic disfranchisement was common for Black blues musicians, who were often unaware of how royalties worked, or were intentionally not told how they worked, or were just given a bottle of booze as payment. Bessie Smith thought she was signing a lucrative deal in 1923 with a white executive, Frank Buckley Walker, who oversaw 'race records' for Columbia. Walker crossed out the royalty clause in her contract, and Smith was given a fixed fee of $200 per recording; she thought that was a good deal for a Black musician at the time, unaware that white country artists on Columbia often had royalty agreements, even though Smith was more successful than many. Smith received a little less than $30,000 for the 160 recordings she made for Columbia even though her estimated sales reached over six million records in the 1920s. Smith died in 1937 in Clarksdale, from injuries sustained during a car crash on Highway 61, only a few miles from the mythical intersection where Johnson is said to have made his bargain with the devil. Johnson did not register any of his music and died penniless a year later, with no royalties for the 29 songs he recorded. However, his music keeps making money 87 years later for Columbia Records and other musicians covering his free, unprotected work, including Eric Clapton, Led Zeppelin and Bob Dylan. All of which is the historical context for why Mr. Coogler's successful negotiation matters to more than just him. And also, arguably, why it upset some people in the film industry. On April 18, the day 'Sinners' opened, Vulture published an article titled 'Hollywood Execs Fear Ryan Coogler's 'Sinners' Deal 'Could End the Studio System.'' The reporter cited an unnamed studio executive calling the contract a 'very dangerous' precedent. The most incendiary sentence, to me, was this: 'The Coogler deal has come to be regarded as Hollywood's latest (if not nearly greatest) extinction-level threat.' When asked about the coverage on the 'Democracy Now!' program, Mr. Coogler said, 'I think a lot has been made of my deal in particular,' adding, 'I've been in this industry long enough to know what kinds of deals are possible, and nothing in this deal is a new thing.' When the interviewer asked Mr. Coogler why he thought his agreement was drawing particular scrutiny, he laughed and responded, 'I'd rather not say.' And in fact his copyright arrangement is unusual, but not unprecedented. Quentin Tarantino secured a copyright-controlled deal for 'Once Upon a Time … in Hollywood.' Similarly, in news media coverage at the time, nobody treated similar deals for Mel Gibson, Richard Linklater and Peter Jackson with such alarm, or even interest. Why is it somehow out of line for a bankable auteur like Mr. Coogler, who has a $2.5 billion track record with box office juggernauts like the 'Black Panther' and 'Creed' franchises? Instead of viewing Mr. Coogler's contract as a threat, why not criticize a movie industry that has exploited Black talent since it began? Again, I know the answer, which is why I do not see Mr. Coogler's deal as a threat to what the Vulture article termed the 'time-honored industry power balance.' The power was never in balance for Black people to begin with. There is a goosebumps-inducing monologue early in 'Sinners' by the old bluesman Delta Slim, riding in a car with Stack and Sammie as they pass a chain gang of Black prisoners. Delta Slim recalls his Black friend who tried to save money honestly and move away from Mississippi only to be castrated and lynched by the Ku Klux Klan for the audacity of wanting more for himself. Slim's poetic speech of sorrow breaks into a dirge as his grief-drunk words dissipate into waves of uncontrollable moans, overtaken by a thunderhead of concentrated anguish as the groans morph into the bent, blue notes of the blues. Delta Slim slaps his thigh repeatedly like a bass drum — beat after beat after beat — an ancestral boom that resonates with the call-and-response reverberations in the leftover rhythms from the chain gang's pounding hammers made into instruments to communicate to one another across the landscape of pain. Having the power and privilege to make your own decisions is a central narrative struggle in 'Sinners.' Throughout the film, characters are making and breaking deals, negotiating their needs and desires for money, sex, power, family, love, escape, music and freedom. In an early scene, Smoke asks a Black girl to watch his car and cargo for a small fee, and then teaches her how to negotiate: to never settle with the first offer, but to counteroffer, know her worth and ask for more. In the coda of the film, we found out Sammie has lived a long life as a blues musician. (The older Sammie is played by the real-life blues legend Buddy Guy. The film was partly inspired by whiskey-sipping memories Mr. Coogler had of listening to old blues records and family stories about Mississippi with his uncle James, who loved Buddy Guy.) We found out that Smoke made a final deal with Stack (now a vampire) before he died to let Sammie live as a living testimony, an agreement made in thinking about what survives out of violence as a legacy to what came before, which is the main reason Mr. Coogler — who will be only 63 when the copyright of the film reverts back to him — fought for that copyright deal in the first place, for his children. In an interview with Jelani Cobb for 'The New Yorker Radio Hour,' Mr. Coogler talks about how hard Spike Lee had to work to get the funding he needed for his film 'Malcolm X.' 'Hearing Spike talk about 'Malcolm X' and going door to door with Black celebrities to raise money for —— ' Here, Mr. Coogler cuts off his words as if to stop himself from breaking down, followed by a shaky sigh as his emotions overtake him as they do Delta Slim in his moving monologue. Mr. Cobb then asks, 'What does that mean to you to have to do that?' Mr. Coogler pauses as his voice trembled and trailed off. 'I'm getting emotional because it's hitting me now because I'm talking about the ease of which I can make a vampire movie this expensive.' The ease that Mr. Coogler pinpoints here is why his deal for 'Sinners' is so important and crucial to me as a Black writer navigating what's possible. When I was negotiating my first book deal, I was given this piece of advice from one of my mentors: 'They will make you feel like you have to be so grateful for everything that you're not allowed to ask for anything. Ask anyway. Ask for what you need.'
New York Times
26-04-2025
- Entertainment
- New York Times
The Symbolism in ‘Sinners'
This article contains detailed spoilers. Ryan Coogler's fantastical new Black horror film, 'Sinners,' is a critical smash, a box office hit. But the director's latest collaboration with the actor Michael B. Jordan has also left viewers with plenty to unpack. Jordan plays the 'Smokestack twins,' Smoke and Stack, who return from working with Al Capone in Chicago to open up a juke joint in their Mississippi hometown. They arrange for their cousin Sammie, the blues-loving son of a disapproving preacher, to perform for the opening. But Sammie's talents quickly attract a group of white vampires who threaten to overtake the town. 'Sinners' is a work that's interested in moral dichotomies. There are monsters and victims, of course — it's a vampire movie. But when the film's characters, objects and themes are examined through the lens of its political subtext, quite a bit is revealed about how 'Sinners' defines good and evil in this supernatural version of the Jim Crow South. What follows is a spoiler-filled breakdown of what the film considers sacred, and what it deems profane. The Sacred Sammie treasures his guitar, given to him by Smoke and Stack, who told their cousin that it once belonged to the Delta blues great Charley Patton. The guitar represents the storied history of Black music, as when Sammie (Miles Caton) plays in the twins' juke joint and summons Black artists and music makers from the distant past and future. Sammie's music also attracts Remmick, the main vampire (played by Jack O'Connell), but also ultimately destroys him: In a confrontation, Sammie smashes his guitar over Remmick's head, giving Smoke the opportunity to stake him. Having survived the vampires, Sammie wanders around clutching the broken neck of his guitar, still believing it was Charley Patton's. Smoke eventually reveals that Stack had lied and that the guitar had belonged to their father, proving that there's power even in one's personal legacy. Even though the guitar doesn't belong to a blues legend, it doesn't mean that an artist like Sammie can't elicit the power of Black culture through it. The main chunk of Sammie's story begins and ends at church. His father, a preacher, insists that Sammie quit the blues and pursue the same vocation. The church scenes frame the vampire horror, showing the place of worship as a safe place for the Black community. But it's also where Sammie feels alienated by his father; it's an institution of traditional values that can be limiting. It's telling that the old sawmill the twins buy from a Klansman for their juke joint has floorboards still stained with blood; this is the traumatic foundation on which the club is built. The juke joint brings the community together and allows them a space for their Black joy. Sammie's father dismisses such establishments as breeding grounds for sin, but this is Sammie's haven, even if for just an evening. That the vampires can't enter the space without an invitation also indicates the allure and power an exclusively Black space can have. From the twins' first appearance onscreen, it's clear that they will inevitably be split up. The cold, ill-tempered Smoke seems like a good candidate for the role of the 'bad' twin opposite the still-crooked but more felicitous Stack. But Smoke ends up with the action-hero-style shootout against the local Klansmen who planned for the juke joint patrons to become a bloody sacrifice to the vampires. Smoke is also protected by a partner who represents a sacred virtue: Annie (Wunmi Mosaku) clings to her protective charms and takes care of the locals, even when they can't entirely compensate her. She is also the first to figure out they are up against supernatural entities. Annie represents Black faith and mythologies. Her knowledge and concern are what keep Smoke safe until the end, when he's fatally shot by a Klansman in the film's final confrontation. Smoke dies with dignity. As he's dying he sees Annie and the baby they lost, dressed in white as though they're angels plucked from heaven. Smoke is offered the hero's death. The Profane The supernatural ghouls in this movie are actually just white appropriators who want to use Sammie's music as a way to connect with their own ancestors. Remmick shares that he was a victim of colonialism and had religion foisted onto him. His attack on the juke joint is symbolic of how colonialism is an ever-perpetuating system. After Remmick and his fellow vampires turn most of the Black partyers into bloodsuckers, they all join in with their own style of revels in the woods, singing and dancing to Irish folk songs. This scene is meant to parallel the sacred, transcendent celebration of music and dance that took place in the mill. Trying to lure Sammie and the others, the vampires promise an eternal life of equality, a post-racial future where everyone is assimilated. Remmick's offer is a gilded kind of erasure, where one's Black identity becomes irrelevant. Money is supposed to be a great equalizer, but the twins find that it can't actually buy the respect, stability and freedom they seek. A lot of money changes hands in the lead-up to the film's twist into supernatural horrors; the twins go around town haggling for food and services for their establishment's grand opening, and the locals balk at their fortune. In the world of 'Sinners,' money is never sacred. So much of the currency shown in the film is tainted by the context in which it was gained or is being used. So Annie dismisses Smoke's wealth as blood money earned from illegal dealings in Chicago while Mary, Stack's love interest, marvels at the gold coins Remmick offers her before he turns her into a vampire. In 'Sinners' money can never be a tool for liberation; it's just another means of oppression. Played by Hailee Steinfeld, Mary is a former flame with whom Stack cannot envision a future. That's because she's mixed-race, and passing as white in her daily life. But while she can slip in and out of her Blackness, she doesn't fit in to either the Black or white community. When she arrives at the juke joint, she is nearly declined entry. It's significant that the character who moves between racial identities is the first of the partygoers to be turned by the vampires; she can find something resembling freedom in their post-racial world. Stack is a victim of an old racial trope — a Black man who meets his downfall due to a white woman. (In this case, it's the light-skinned Mary, who lives her life as a white woman.) While Smoke dies a noble death and rejoins his Black family in heaven, Stack is resolved to an eternal half-life where he is no more free than he was before. So when, in a mid-credits scene, the vampires Stack and Mary visit an older Sammie (played by the famous blues singer-guitarist Buddy Guy) and offer him the same eternity, he turns them down. After all, Sammie has already secured an eternal life for himself that's far more precious than what Stack and Mary have: He has continued to play his music, meaning he is a part of the past, present and future of Black culture. He's already part of an undying legacy.
