Latest news with #MarcMaron
Yahoo
18 hours ago
- Entertainment
- Yahoo
What Are The Bad Guys 2's Box Office Predictions?
The animated sequel to the 2022 hit, The Bad Guys, The Bad Guys 2, is nearly here, and the early box office prediction numbers are already out. With the strong performance of the previous movie, The Bad Guys 2 will have a head start. But is that enough to ensure a successful haul? How much is The Bad Guys 2 predicted to make at the box office? Box Office Pro predicts that The Bad Guys 2 will open with a weekend haul ranging from $25 million to $35 million. Industry analysts consider this strong for an animated sequel. However, they note that the numbers might have climbed higher with a different release window. The Bad Guys had a $23.9 million domestic opening and a $97.4 million domestic total. The studio released it in April, which is typically a favorable month for animated films. Changing release schedules has not worked well for many films in the past, and this strategy could pose a risk for The Bad Guys 2. However, a summer release would have meant competing with the highly anticipated Minecraft movie. The current release window offers relatively less competition. One factor that could benefit the upcoming Universal Pictures release is its position in the release schedule. It will be the first animated film to hit theaters since Pixar's Elio. The movie is made on a budget of $80 million and will require a significant haul to be considered profitable. The Bad Guys 2 features an ensemble cast that includes Sam Rockwell, Marc Maron, Craig Robinson, Anthony Ramos, Awkwafina, Zazie Beetz, Richard Ayoade, Lilly Singh, and Alex Borstein, among others. The synopsis for the movie reads, 'The Bad Guys 2 follows the crackerjack criminal crew of animal outlaws who are struggling to find trust and acceptance in their newly minted lives as Good Guys. However, they're pulled out of retirement and forced to do 'one last job' by an all-female squad of criminals.' It will premiere on August 1, 2025. Stay tuned for more updates. Solve the daily Crossword
Time Magazine
2 days ago
- Entertainment
- Time Magazine
'WTF with Marc Maron' Is on The 100 Best Podcasts of All Time
Comedy & Fiction After 16 years of interviewing some of the most famous actors, athletes, and politicians (for a long time in his garage), Marc Maron is planning to wrap up his pioneering podcast in the fall of 2025. While the comedian's many gripes, like his rejection by Lorne Michaels for a role on Saturday Night Live, and his either feigned or real ignorance of his subjects and their work, especially in the early days, could be a little irksome, his basic questions into people's backgrounds and tendency to commiserate about rocky career launches solicited great answers from his subjects. And Maron's personal arc—especially as his acting career began to flourish—gave the show a sense of the host evolving as a human as well as an interviewer. Maron's impact on podcasting is undeniable. Remember when he snagged an interview with President Barack Obama, a coup that put podcasting as a platform on the map for those who'd been ignoring the growing medium? There would be no Kamala Harris on Call Her Daddy or Donald Trump on This Past Week With Theo Vonn without Maron paving the way. Other standout episodes include Robin Williams' emotional reflection on his struggles with depression and alcoholism, a confrontation-turned-therapy session with Louis C.K. about their tumultuous friendship and professional resentments, all before C.K. faced cancellation, and Mel Brooks living up to his status as a comedic legend.
Yahoo
4 days ago
- Entertainment
- Yahoo
'Stick' on Apple TV+: Marc Maron helped shape most emotional scene with Owen Wilson, pushing for fewer jokes
For weeks, the most popular show on Apple TV+ has be Stick, starring Owen Wilson, Peter Dager, Marc Maron, Lilli Kay and Mariana Treviño. It's a story about a washed-up ex-golf pro, Pryce Cahill (Wilson), who sees potential in young protégé Santi Wheeler (Dager), and wants to train him to be the next great golf superstar. Many have found similarities between Stick and another Apple TV+ hit, Ted Lasso, with both shows including an appealing mix of heartwarming moments, hysterical comedy and sports. Stick adds to the existing catalogue of shows that are simply sweet and hopeful stories. Additionally, it features a robust ensemble cast, each with their own interesting character arcs to explore. But of course, the show comes with the added pressure for much of its cast to beef up their golf skills. "I love being bad at things, and I love growing and getting better at things," Dager told Yahoo Canada. "As an actor, that's kind of what you dream about. You want to go somewhere else to portray a certain character. You want to learn." That includes a particularly fun moment when Owen's character Pryce is trying to teach Zero (Kay) about golf, to become Peter's caddie. "I was along for the ride with Zero there. I was really just learning, learning about golf," Kay said. "I think for me, it was just so much fun because that was the beginning of my falling in love with golf, and I think it was the start for Zero as well." Santi reconnects with his estranged father As we approach the season finale this week, the penultimate episode ends with Santi's estranged father, Gary (Mackenzie Astin) showing up at the PGA tournament, opening up space to really dive into the trauma that Santi holds from his father, who we know is the person who both initially made Santi interested in golf, and also resulted in him staying away from the sport for so long. "That was the most exciting part ... to earn your way to those last episodes, to be able to go and live through that as Santi," Dager shared. "The cool thing about the show is you learn all the way up until the end. It's entertainment, but you're also being informed about these characters, and everything is getting deeper and deeper and deeper, and you get to learn a whole new layer about all of them." And of course a core part of this relationship is how it impacts Santi's mother Elena (Mariana Treviño), and how she responds. "Peter was very engaging, ... since the beginning, day one, he had sent [me texts]," Treviño said. "He was like, 'Hey, I'm going be your son. Let's have coffee.' So he really made an effort to connect ... and to introduce himself." "And in my case it was wonderful, because I arrived late because of a problem I had with my passport, it was lost right before getting into the plane. So I was a bit nervous and flustered. And once I got to set and there was Peter, and he's so mature and he's so loving, and we just connected instantly." Establishing a 'believable' friendship with 'organic' comedy A particularly entertaining element of the show is the friendship between Pryce and Mitts (Marc Maron), brilliantly established at the beginning of the season by a great scene after they orchestrate their betting scheme at a local bar. The two have a conversation in Pryce's car, where Pryce tells Mitts he can "ease up" talking about his as a failure, but Mitts says the details are important. It's a really effective bit of banter to understand this relationship. "Owen and I, we connected pretty quickly," Maron said. "And the interesting thing about that scene is that I'm him a little bit, I'm getting out my own petty anger at my best friend." "There was a lot weighing on that scene, because when we entered it the big question was, is it going to be believable that these guys have known each other for over 20 years? And there was just something that we clicked into. ... I'm glad you like that scene, because they were all, I wouldn't say worried about it, but it was a big test of the believability." The balance that Stick strikes between comedy and emotional moments is an aspirational goal for many, as it's executed so successfully in this show. Reflecting on that achievement, Maron really saw that combination the first time he read the scripts and looked at the characters Pryce and Mitts. "These guys are traumatized by grief, and ... a lot of what defines them as aging friends is this unspoken connection to a true sadness. ... I think both of them ... are doing all they can to to avoid those feelings," he said. "The reason it works is because it's organic, because there's a tension within them that seeks release, and the process of them doing that together is comedic." "When we end up having this fight that is almost ridiculous, the arc of that fight, where I'm pushing him to own his grief, and then for us to get into this scuffle, and then just end up laying there, ... that is funny. But it's not a joke funny, it's all sort of true to the characters. And I was very vigilant about the writing in that and making suggestions around beats that were diminished by a joke. There were a couple of scenes where I'm like, you don't have to button this with a joke, you can let this feeling be its own thing, and it's going to be enough. So I was aware of that because the comedy was organic."
The Guardian
12-07-2025
- 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
12-07-2025
- 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
